


His Mouth On Me

by ToAStranger



Series: Lilies Under My Skin [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, M/M, Polyamory, Sparring and Sexing, Tony Stark Needs a Hug and an Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 08:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12428433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: Tony's a little stressed.  Clint's a little wound-up.Part 2 of 9.





	His Mouth On Me

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a Tony/Avenger for all of the pairings from It Gnaws, following a plot from story to story. But all those tags drive me crazy to try and keep them together, so I broke them into separate pieces.
> 
> Basically, these will be the smutty sequels to It Gnaws Me Through. Not nearly as flowery. Hope you enjoy.

“When he finally put

his mouth on me–on   
  


my shoulder–the world

shifted a little on the tilted

 

axis of itself.”

— Marie Howe, The Kiss

* * *

Chapter 2: Ambrosia

“Here,” Rhodey slides a mug of fresh coffee across the counter as Tony groans into the fold of his arms.  “Drink up, Tones.” 

Tony peers up at him with bloodshot eyes, hair everywhere, and he takes it with a small sound.  “Thanks, muffintop.” 

Rhodey snorts into his own cup, leaning a hip against the island across from him.  “You look more sleep deprived than usual.  You wanna share with the class, or do I have to ply it out of you with donuts and booze?” 

“It’s nothing,” Tony shrugs, but Rhodey fixes him with another one of those looks that he’s been giving him since MIT that says  _ I can’t believe you’re trying to sell the bullshit that’s coming out of your mouth right now _ ; Tony sighs.  “Just haven’t been sleeping well.” 

It’s a sadly true statement.  It’s been four days since the Charity Gala; four days since he and Natasha spent the night together and Tony woke wrapped up in her and her red curls and her smell.  Four days since Tony had slept feeling warm and safe and incredibly satisfied. 

He hadn’t realized how empty his bed is without someone else in it with him. 

Rhodey grunts, leaning forward so that his elbows are resting on the marble countertop between them.  “This have anything to do with a certain contract that’s come across your desk?” 

Eyes narrow, Tony leans back in his seat.  “What lies has Pepper been telling?” 

“It’s a bad idea, Tones.” Rhodey’s lips press thin. 

“Well, it’s not necessarily up to  _ me _ , is it?” Tony shoves to his feet, snatching up his mug before Rhodey can try to keep it hostage from Tony’s imminent retreat.  “I don’t say who can and can’t submit potential business deals to the board.  If they’re interested in the tech, I have to at least take a look.” 

“Tones--” 

“I know, Rhodey.   _ I know _ .” Tony huffs.  “But let’s say Ty’s new system is what he’s touting it to be.  Would you rather have it in Hammer’s hands?  Or mine?” 

With a grimace, Rhodey rubs a hand over his mouth.  “Guy’s bad news, Tony.  Just wanna make sure he doesn’t tangle you up in his webs again.” 

“He won’t,” Tony shrugs.  “I’m not seventeen anymore, honeybear.  I think I know bad ideas when I see them.” 

Rhodey looks like he might protest that claim, but nods instead.  “You think the board will push it?” 

“Depends on what R&D makes of his proofs.” 

“When do you meet with him?” 

“Friday at the earliest,” Tony says.  “Monday at the latest.” 

“Pep gonna be there?” 

“It’s not a lunch date, sourpatch, it’s an official meeting.” Tony rolls his eyes, already moving toward the elevator.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some VR specs to examine.” 

Cradling his coffee close, Tony steps into the lift without another word.  He knows the only reason he gets away with it is because Rhodey knows better than most when to push and when to yield with Tony. 

And when Tony’s tired and grumpy, it’s never a great idea to push. 

* * *

Clint is a little surprised to find Tony in the elevator at 6am, but pleasantly so.  It isn’t often Tony shows his face so early, and even more rare for him to bother coming up for coffee when he’s in the middle of something particularly science heavy; they all know he has a year’s supply down in the labs. 

The fatigue and the stress weighing down Tony’s shoulders is easy enough for Clint’s sharp eyes to catch, though.  With Bruce away on mission with Nat and Steve, it’s easy to guess that Tony had been in search of some company in reprieve of his empty lab. 

Clint tucks his thumb under his forefinger and brings it to his breast, just over his heart, right where the arc reactor sits in Tony’s chest as a greeting:  _ Tony _ . 

Tony offers a sleepy, tight lipped smile.  

Pointing at him, Clint signs a quick  _ O-K _ , his brows up. 

The smile on Tony’s face falters.  A tentative hand comes up, and Tony closes his thumb to his middle and index finger as he shakes his head.  His smile goes a little crooked; a little dry. 

With a  hum, Clint crooks his finger--  _ come here _ \-- and Tony shuffles forward. 

Cupping a hand at Tony’s nape once he’s close enough, Clint pulls him in.  This is one of the best things, Clint thinks, since Tony had finally let them all tentatively into his heart.  Kissing Tony never gets old, even if it does lead to Natasha driving him to the edge of sanity, as she frequently had during the long months between  _ wanting _ Tony and  _ having  _ Tony, with all of the filth she had and has muttered in his good ear, speculating on what he would be like in bed with him, with her, between them.  It always left them both sweaty and partially sated but still  _ craving _ .  The idea that she’s finally gotten to see that, to have that, leaves Clint burning inside. 

He presses a lazy to kiss to Tony’s mouth anyways, and he comes away tasting like coffee.

Tony blinks at him as they part, almost dazed, and then he smiles one of those smiles Clint might’ve fallen boots over quiver for that wrinkles at the eyes.  He uses a free hand to pluck at the gear Clint is sporting and raises a brow. 

“What’s up, buttercup?  You look ready to go to war.” 

Clint snorts, reaching back to press the button to take him down to the gym.  “Nat’s not here.  Gotta blow off some steam before I pop.” 

The faintest blush pinkens the tips of Tony’s ears, and he clears his throat as Clint grins.  “It’s always rough,” Tony says.  “When you guys take off to parts unknown.” 

“You sayin’ you miss us when we’re gone, Tony?” Clint bats his eyes. 

With a laugh, Tony leans back against the far wall.  “What can I say?  Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go.” 

“Could always join me,” Clint says.  “Work off a little tension of your own.  Or is that a Romanova exclusive?  Only she gets to see you work for it?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Robin Hood.” Tony shoves at him, but Clint is still snickering as he stumbles out of the opening elevator doors, happy to see the tension bleeding out of Tony’s frame already. 

“C’mon, Tony.  I just want to see you sweat a little.” Clint braces against the frame of the lift doors, waggling his brows.  “Maybe your o-face, too.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Tony steps into Clint’s space and then walks him back out of the elevator without even having to lay a hand on him, all slow and steady and sinuous.  It lights a fire in Clint’s stomach.  “If you wanted to get your ass kicked, birdboy, all you had to do was ask.” 

“Alright,” Clint grins, all teeth, and spreads his arms out wide;  _ fuck, _ but he loves playing with his food.  “I’m asking.” 

* * *

With a sharp grunt, Tony’s back hits the mat for the third time in twice as many minutes.  Clint is light on his feet, hovering above him, looking very much like a kid at Christmas. 

“I’m an old man, Barton.  Have a little sympathy.”  Tony says, breathless and sweating from their back and forth. 

“Not a chance.  Ain’t no sympathy for devils like you and me, sweetheart.”  Clint offers a hand, reeling Tony to his feet.  “C’mon, babe, you’re sloppy today.” 

“I’m exhausted today.” 

Jutting his lower lip out, Clint mocks him.  “Aw, poor little rich boy, not gettin’ enough beauty sleep.” 

Using the grip on Clint’s hand, Tony jerks him into a well-placed hit to the solar plexus.  It knocks the breath right out of Clint.  Knocks the cockiness right off of his face, too.  He stumbles back, cradling his stomach with a groan, and Tony grins as he raises his hands back up to a ready position. 

He doesn’t get to gloat for long.  Soon, they’re both dancing around each other.  Swiping and dodging, missing more hits than they actually land, and laughing as they pass quips between jabs.  Clint’s sweating about as much as Tony, hair sticking up in odd spikes, cheeks dimpling as he skirts another of Tony’s swings. 

They don’t usually get to spar one another.  Their fighting style is usually too similar for Nat or Steve to decide to pair them up: Tony with his mixed martial arts and boxing; Clint with his SHIELD training and years of dirty street scraps.  There’s a pleasant cadence to squaring off against someone who can sometimes know the move you’re going to make before you make it.  A different kind of challenge. 

Eventually, Clint catches Tony’s wrist as he overextends to land a blow, and Clint brings his other arm down to fold Tony’s arm around. He tugs it up against Tony’s back, twisting him around and locking him in flush against Clint’s chest with an arm around his front that carefully avoids putting pressure on the reactor, pulling at the wrist of Tony’s pinned arm just enough for him to feel the strain up into his shoulder and neck. 

Flush and breathless, Tony brings his free hand up to clutch at Clint’s forearm, laughing when Clint tugs him closer.  He can’t say he didn’t see this one coming.  “Was starting to think you liked seeing me on my back, flyboy.” 

“Nah,” Tony can feel Clint’s amusement rumble up through his chest with how tightly they’re pressed; can certainly feel the half hard erection pressing to Tony’s ass as they breathe on the same beat.  “Just like working you up a little.” 

“Not usually how foreplay works, Clint.” 

Humming, Clint splays his hand over Tony’s chest, and he can feel the heat of his palm through the cotton of his shirt as he shuffles impossibly closer.  “Obviously you’ve been sexing the wrong people.” 

His mouth is on him then, tongue searing a line up the arch of Tony’s neck, tasting the sweat of his skin.  Tony’s eyes flutter shut and he groans. 

Pressing kisses back down his throat, Clint releases Tony’s wrist in order to wind his other arm around his waist.  Tony’s shoulder throbs a moment, hand still trapped behind him, between his lower back and the muscle of Clint’s abdomen.  When Clint cups his crotch and bites down onto his shoulder, Tony hisses. Clint’s hips follow his own as they stutter forward into his touch. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” 

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Clint mutters, rutting lazily against him and grinning as he squeezes at the hard line of Tony’s cock.  “Got no idea how bad I’ve been itching for this after seeing Nat touch you.  Wish I’d been there.  Bet she treated you so good.” 

Swallowing thick, Tony canted his hips back and savored the way Clint muffled a moan against his neck, as he carefully shifted his stance.  “Why didn’t you?” 

“Wasn’t invited.  Natasha would’ve skinned me.  Next time.” 

Tony hums; definitely next time. 

Hooking behind Clint’s ankle with his sneaker, Tony kicks Clint’s feet out from beneath him and he falls back to the matts with a satisfying  _ thud _ and a hilarious  _ squawk _ .  His protest has Tony grinning as he twists around to face him, eyes dark and hungry for the sweat on his skin, the heaving of his chest, the lines of muscle beneath his practice gear.

Before Clint can crow anything about foul play, Tony drops to his knees.  He must see something of the wanting in Tony’s face because he leans up onto his elbow, hand out and open and groping Tony closer, meeting him halfway and already seeking out the skin beneath Tony’s shirt.  Their mouths collide, wet and open, as Tony fists a hand into Clint’s hair and the front of his shirt.  Hands grip at Tony’s hips, tugging him down to sprawl over top Clint, then curve down over Tony’s ass to urge his hips closer. 

Legs tangled with legs, Tony rocks down and groans.  Clint swallows up the sound and shifts his thigh, pressing it tighter to Tony’s aching cock, and tries to coax out another noise from Tony by guiding his hips into a sloppy rhythm, like he’s greedy for it. 

Worked up the way they are, it doesn’t take long.  They rut, gasping between messy kisses, pulling at each other as though they’re both trying to crawl right into each other’s skin.  Tony cums, bucking against Clint’s hip as Clint squeezes at the handful of Tony’s ass, following him over the edge with a heady moan that sends pleasant vibrations all along Tony’s lips and tongue. 

When they’re both spent, still shuddering and panting, Tony flops off of Clint with a gasp, leg still trapped between Clint’s thighs, twisted awkwardly on his side.  Tony stares, a bit dazed, up at the lights in the ceiling.  Next to him, Clint fumbles for one of Tony’s hands and kisses his palm.  Then his wrist. 

“God, that was good.” He says, head lulling over to meet Tony’s dry grin.  “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” Tony says, surprised that it’s actually very true.  “Haven’t cum in my pants like that since I was in college.” 

“That’s a damn fucking shame,” Clint twists to prop himself onto a hand to look down at Tony’s lazy smile with one of his own.  “You know what else is a shame?  I  _ still _ haven’t actually got my hand on your dick.” 

Tony snorts into laughter, shaking with it, eyes bright.  “Well, it’s still damn early in the day, Boy Wonder.”

“That an offer for round two?” 

“Probably a round three and four, too.” Tony says, shoving to his feet with a grunt and adjusting his pants.  “ _ If _ you’re lucky.” 

“Better get that perfect ass moving then, smartass.” Clint winks, smacking said  _ perfect ass _ as he pushes up and by, making a beeline toward the elevators like a damn man on a mission.  “We’ve got work to do.” 

* * *

In the shower, much later, Tony rests back against the cool tiles as Clint presses kisses along his jaw, down his neck, across his chest.  He runs his fingers through Clint’s hair, a steady rhythm between them, breathless and warm and content with wandering, rough hands that grope at his sides, at his thighs, at his ass.  

They’re both half exhausted, muscles aching, but the lazy rut they’ve developed is heightened by the weight that’s settled in their bones.  Tony remembers, distantly, Clint’s breathy  _ love you love you love you _ whispered in his ear on their way up in the elevator, and he finds himself echoing it back now as Clint rubs soothing circles into the jut of Tony’s hips with his thumbs. 

“Why the fuck did I wait to do this?” Tony wonders, aloud, clutching at Clint’s nape and at his arm as Clint bites down over his pectoral.  

Eyes bright with mirth, Clint rolls forward against him, friction devine and quaking between them.  “Probably because you’re a chickenshit when it comes to this stuff.” 

Tony’s head lulls back, hair plastered to his forehead from the steam and the water pouring down from above them.  “Probably.” 

“Don’t worry,” Clint hums, kissing the corner of his mouth.  “We got your back.  And your front.  And--” 

“I get it.” 

“Good,” Clint pulls back, stroking over skin, reaching between them so that Tony arches and gasps and burns.  “Now, lemme watch you come apart.” 

* * *

Tony sleeps like the dead with Clint half flopped over him and snoring in his ear.  He only wakes when delicate fingers brush his hair back and away from his forehead. 

He opens his eyes to Natasha, sitting on the edge of the bed, smile barely there but eyes bright as she sweets her gaze over the both of them.  She looks tired, in the blue light of the reactor, and Tony stretches out an arm to her.  She tucks in close, pressing to his other side and hiding cold toes beneath his calf.  Tony kisses her temple, and she leans across his chest to kiss the top of Clint’s head.

It’s easy to drop back to sleep after that. 


End file.
